


Elves of Angband

by Clara_Jimmy



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angband, Beleriand, Dark fic, Death, Disregards Laws and Customs Among the Eldar, First Age, Gen, Mentions of Violence, POV Multiple, Slavery, Suicide, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-20 05:59:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16550267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clara_Jimmy/pseuds/Clara_Jimmy
Summary: There were a lot of Elves living and dying in Angband, enslaved by Morgoth, and some of them even managed to get out.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A collection of four different, indirectly connected, stories.
> 
> Warnings for rather depressing themes of suffering, slavery, death etc., but I don´t think anything is too explicit.

Tolkien says: _"Many of the Noldor and the Sindar they took captive and led to Angband, and made them thralls, forcing them to use their skill and their knowledge in the service of Morgoth. And Morgoth sent out his spies, and they were clad in false forms and deceit was in their speech; they made lying promises of reward, and with cunning words sought to arouse fear and jealousy among the peoples... But ever the Noldor feared most the treachery of those of their own kin, who had been thralls in Angband; for Morgoth used some of these for his evil purposes, and feigning to give them liberty sent them abroad, but their wills were chained to his, and they strayed only to come back to him again. Therefore, if any of his captives escaped in truth, and returned to their own people, they had little welcome, and wandered alone outlawed and desperate."_ ( _The Silmarillion_ , _Of the Ruin of Beleriand and the Fall of Fingolfin_ )

Thanks Tolkien, that sounds great.

Chapter 1: Prologue  
Chapter 2: Until your dying breath – the torturous lives of Morgoth´s slaves in Angband  
Chapter 3: Two of our own – Morgoth has sent two of his Maiar to live among the Elves and turn them against each other  
Chapter 4: Back home – an ex-slave is forced to spy on her own people and faces an interrogation  
Chapter 5: Free and alone – an ex-slave doesn’t get the warm welcome when he returns home


	2. Until your dying breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the only purpose of your existence is to be a tool for Morgoth´s work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Many of the Noldor and the Sindar they took captive and led to Angband, and made them thralls, forcing them to use their skill and their knowledge in the service of Morgoth.”_

Melkor hated the Elves almost as much as he despised the Valar, and he always sought to make them suffer, to punish them for what the Valar did to him years ago.

The stars, a constant in the lives of the Elves since they awoke, were still there, up in the sky, but down in the pits no one could see them. The darkness was unnatural and ate away their spirits. Most of the Elves couldn’t keep their resolve, hope or sanity in that place. They were doomed to an existence made up by hard labour and suffering.

....

The dark corridors and rooms, if they could be called that, were sometimes lit by a torch in the stone wall. The air down there, in the lowest parts of the fortress, was heavy and hot and smelled utterly unnatural, of dirt, iron, fire and death. The area was never silent, and the clamour of weapons and tools could always be heard, accompanied by harsh shouts, orders directed at the Elves, or screams that came from the captives or from one of the many twisted creatures that were bred nearby. Sometimes, the dungeons were pitch black and time changed, and specific days were erased, and for the enslaved Elves all became hard work, meagre food, fitful rest or punishment. Most of them were caught in battles or chance encounters and brought from all over Beleriand to Angband to do Morgoth´s work.

Loose communities formed in the darkness and from time to time the mutually shared horror forged strong relationships. But when faced with such dire and miserable situation most displayed the tendency to care for themselves first and only then offering anything to their kin. And there were those wouldn’t concern themselves with anyone else´s existence, and most elves wouldn’t hold a grudge against them for such behaviour. But more than a handful of the slaves came to realise that being locked in their worst nightmare could bring them closer. Those who came over in the stolen ships, something that made them traitors in the eyes of many, and those who came to Endórë on foot, nearly freezing or drowning in the northern sea, were at a tough spot when they met each other here. Those who found themselves buried alive in Angamando were usually warriors and sometimes kinslayers as well. Ránevaryar received snarls and rude comments and looks from his fellow captives, Nolofinwë´s followers, in the first days. But all was forgiven in the pits of hell. Even the murders and treason seemed like nothing compared to what they were subjected to here.

The Elves occasionally sang to each other and shared stories from their lives before, for which they were cruelly punished if any of the guards heard. Melkor has always had a strong distaste for such music. Most barriers of communication eventually fell and the Elves talked in Sindarin and Quenya, sometimes using even archaic or Avarin words. Languages bled and most of the time they spoke a mixture of all of them. Even if up there, in the lively world, Elu Thingol has outlawed Quenya in his lands and they knew it. That was how some of the older slaves came to learn about the Silmarils and the Noldor coming back from over the seas and waging war against their jailer and it gave them some hope and satisfaction, that perhaps a remnant of justice still existed.

Surviving in Morgoth´s fortress was anything but easy for them. Tortured, maimed and starved, all the while breathing in the deadly fumes, most of them would not even call it a life. Their hair was cut every few years for practical reasons, but like many things here it also had one other function, to remind the Elves that they were Morgoth´s possession, his tools, and had no say in anything anymore. What could one do when the power above them redefined them as slaves, when they were seen as meat used for work or dirt to be discarded? And many of them accepted it, slowly, without realising. That was one of Morgoth strongest tactics, for who could defy him if one never saw the possibility? No chains were needed to keep them in place.

For any misdeed there was a punishment. But not even those who behaved could count on surviving until the next day. An average Elf, if they didn’t suffer an accident or due to torture, could survive centuries in the mines. The first Children of Illúvatar were a particularly resilient race, as Melkor had discovered. But they were being poisoned by practically all their surroundings, from the dirt on the ground, food and water, to the air they were forced to breathe. Not to mention the minerals they had to dig from the earth. They were broken in body and spirit. Surviving here for a long time meant existing on a border, as a half dead being, constantly starving and injured. They ate sparsely, only to keep from dying too soon, old bread or meat of dubious origin. Fatigue never left them and even if they could sleep longer most would not be able to get a proper rest in the dungeons.

Behind a bend in one corridor, a group of Elves was working on the cliff, sinking their pickaxes in or using hammers, mining ores that were always needed. Sarniel, a former messenger of the Sindar, was especially fervent about this chore, thinking that every time she hit the wall and pieces of metal flew off it would relieve some of her rage. She knew it would have been smarter not to attract attention and to save her strengths as she was more than likely going to spend a lot of time down here. If one of the guards saw she would be punished for having no discipline. But in that moment, she couldn’t help it, she felt incredibly angry at her fate. Others were collecting the chipped stones and loading them on wheelbarrows, transferring them to a different room. Athëaner and Gilornor were one of them. The best friends met each other in Angband. Athëaner would talk about Aman, describing the tall white towers of Tirion and the Palace of King Finwë and the silver and gold light of the Trees. In turn Gilornor spoke of the lands of Beleriand and how they looked like with only the stars overhead.

The slaves all more or less knew they would likely never get out. Some had accepted it, by reasoning or due to sheer exhaustion and abuse. Some had been enslaved a long time ago and could barely recall the outside world. Nevertheless, some still stubbornly refused such fate. Some Elves even tried to escape, there was always someone who made that plan. People were generally the most enthusiastic and optimistic about their chances right after their capture and that was when they were watched most carefully, attempting to get free then would be beyond impossible and senseless. Such Elves had truly a horrible end since their captors delighted in punishing them in the cruellest ways, making them a warning to the rest.

Some of the slaves were forced to work and help the Dark Lord create horrible things. Their days were filled with coarse manual labour and working in the laboratories, using harsh chemicals to refine the rocks and getting the precious elements out of them. Those who had knowledge of smithcraft, and there were many among the Noldor, were immediately transposed elsewhere. They would die making weapons for the Dark Lord, tools which would be used against their own kin. Or, as some of the braver ones whispered, were given orders to manage the famous Silmarils. Cánewen, who came to Endórë with Nolofinwë and his people, worked relentlessly on the swords and maces she was ordered to make, knowing that once her skills fail her captors won’t need her anymore.

Others were still kept to serve in a different way. If on the outside of the fortress these were only rumours, then everyone here knew them for truth. Some Elves were taken to be changed forever, to either endure or die in the process. There was one, an Avar who had been captured long years ago, the Half-orc, as they called him, whose arrival always signalled that another series of experiments would be done. He had seen the stars mirror in Cuiviénen, even if he didn’t remember it anymore. His skin was pale grey, face was framed by long black hair and there was a metal piece protruding from his cheek. In the dark he could perhaps pass for an Elf, but he was an evil being now and took pleasure in subjecting others to the same fate.

The guards who watched the slaves and gave out orders were almost exclusively orcs. Those were Moringotto´s servants the Elves saw most frequently. Yet on different occasions one of Melkor´s Maiar came into the pits for inspection or with some special task. Their master amused himself with having personal servants and he always craved news of what was happening outside of great his fortress, for even those lands he called his kingdom. And since he refused to leave the stronghold this was one of the ways how he could learn what the Noldor, Sindar or even the Valar were doing. All the slaves dreaded the moment when they would be called before him.

In another corridor nearby an unconscious elf was lying on the ground, too weak to move and on the edge of death. He was a Sinda from western Beleriand, Indir, who was taken almost five years ago. Suicides were not very common because of the elven beliefs and the consequences for the others. Despite all the suffering and lamentations to be taken out of this place, to find peace and a final end, the Elves wanted to live and grabbed desperately at every bit of breath. Only a handful of them had even committed such an act. But it was also rumoured that some were forbidden to leave their bodies and they couldn’t die in the dungeons.

....

Only after the walls of Angband were broken in the last war did the captured Elves finally see the stars and regain their freedom, as tarnished as it was by the years spend in Morgoth Bauglir´s prison. Before that day only a handful had ever managed to get out of the dungeons and even then, they could never lead a truly free life again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The names in Sindarin and Quenya:  
> Morgoth = Moringotto, also called Bauglir  
> Angband = Angamando  
> Ennor = Endórë = Middle-earth
> 
> OCs:  
> Ránevaryar means Wandering/Journey Protector (ráne+varyar)  
> Athëaner means Beneficial/Helpful/Kindly Man (athëa+nér)  
> Cánewen means Valor Girl (cánë+wendë)  
> Indir means Inner Thought/Meaning/Heart Young Man (ind+dîr)  
> Gilornor means Star Tree Man (gîl+orn+on)  
> Sarniel means Daughter of Pebble/Stone (sarn+iel)  
> (from the realelvish.net)


	3. Two of our own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The people of the village of Newfield grew restless and it seemed that conflicts were arising every day. Two of Morgoth´s Maiar were doing their work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“And Morgoth sent out his spies, and they were clad in false forms and deceit was in their speech; they made lying promises of reward, and with cunning words sought to arouse fear and jealousy among the peoples..."_

In retrospect, we should have seen it and I especially.

It started on the night of the weddings, of course. Some degree of quarrelling has been expected by everyone, but not like what actually happened. It seemed like one moment people were happy, the newly wedded couples were dancing, laughing, and the next minute the fathers-in-law were in a fistfight. Then most of the relatives joined the chaos and amidst the shouting and brawling they managed to overturn the table, break what was on it, take down the lampions and wound four people. The feast died down quickly. So much for uniting the House of Elm Tree and the House of First Flowers.

You know, when I look at it now, that should have been an omen for how things were going to change.

But Maedwen and Maedir presented themselves as the mediators of the two families and, until that fateful night, I cannot recall a single instant when they would directly cause trouble or call for it. Or at least, an incident that would reveal them. They knew how to work from the shadows, you see. As the conflicts escalated they were the ones who tried the hardest to resolve them and appeared most grieved by them. They were the ones to blame, Maedir was heard once, near tears. They had scheduled the weddings so early and they had only wanted to bring peace, but unwittingly caused the opposite.

The two siblings who came from nowhere and promptly proceeded to marry into the most prominent houses in our village that were infamous for severely disliking one another. I arrived only two weeks after they did, which I am now certain is why I wasn’t affected like everybody else. Those cursed two must have done something in the first days to charm Newfield.

And so, over the course of the three years our village experienced many strange things. Incidents that seemed random occurred and there were no clear explanations.

Rumours surged, lies and affairs were uncovered, and I know Maedir and Maedwen played with us when they created new ones. What used to be minor tiffs somehow gained power and turned into major quarrels, some ending with bruises and bloody teeth. First there was the incident with the cows. Four of them, both from Dílloth´s herd, death, with heir throats cut. Obviously the work of another Elf. Cugwion´s inn diluted wine with water and Himelnith was mixing saw dust in the bread dough. Broken tools, windows, stolen items and money, gross rumours. And everyone was blaming everyone else. The House of First Flowers and the House of Elm Tree were fighting like cats and dogs. And to add to the already spreading fear and doubts, there wetr reports of orc attacks on nearby settlements.

Almost a years after I came back from the trading trip, a great fight broke out in the inn. The damages were as follows: four chairs, one table, I don’t know how many glasses a plates, four noses, two arms and jaws, and several ribs. The cause underneath it was immediately a subject of a heated public discussion. It seems that Golvien had been secretly meeting with Mornor, in a very shameful manner. I don’t know who was faced with more ridicule, if the cheaters of their poor spouses. Arochon and Húrel vowed not to have anything to do with them and Húrel even declared she would be leaving Newfield.

That night I looked up at the stars and wondered. Who were they and what was their fate? For some hidden reason I couldn’t understand why people loved Maedir and Maedwen so much. I should have listened to my feelings more, you probably think. Maybe I would have realised they were even worse than what I imagined. The siblings were just strange. I don’t know how to describe it, sometimes they felt different than other Elves, utterly alien. Too perfect? Too beautiful? Too caring? Somehow odd, like when you look at a bird and you can feel you are a different kind. But they worked well to hide it.

I tell you I am glad my family was never close the two Houses, it meant we were mostly left alone.

Since the morning they arrived the people in Newfield had been changing. They wouldn’t be nice to each other like before, you could pass someone on the street and they would just mumble a curse or give you a disdainful glare. There wasn’t a day I wouldn’t hear a rumour or witness an Elf trying to bring down another one. I truly felt like I was living in a different world, ruled by insanity.

The bad and ugly just kept coming. Laimben´s broken loom. Friends envied and stole from each other, couples cheated. And Fanor and Rimben maybe have caused Harunir´s death in the last battle by not going to his help even if they could have saved him. There were so many of these… things.

Inchon started to urge others to stop paying taxes and keep the earnings. Merenel began to say the war was impossible to win and we were all as good as dead, Morgoth´s forces would defeat us soon. All we could do was to gather our belongings and leave. People were saying that Morgoth apparently craved only the House of Finwë and everyone else not affiliated with them would be left alone and wouldn’t ger hurt. We Sindar had a good chance of surviving in peace or possibly to move east. You know I didn’t believe that. Were we not hunted by Morgoth even before the Golodhrim came?

But one of the most shocking incidents happened at the start of Ivanneth. I remember being woken up during the night by a sudden noise. There was a quarrel in the square, Caenis´s brothers and cousin were fighting with Arassion and his siblings, Arassion reportedly being bloodied and half-unconscious, my father told me. It turned out that Maedir had staggered home very late that night, with a grave wound on his head. Someone had attacked him while working in the field, with a rock or tool, and he only came to when it was already dark. Thankfully he remembered the attacker was Arassion and that promptly lead to Maedir´s brothers-in-law planning a revenge. The noises from outside grew louder as other people came out of their houses and intervened. And Maedwen was screaming, trying to defend her husband, saying it couldn’t have been him, all while frantically calling for justice and being concerned for her brother.

So sly.

You see, people never even suspected Maedir and Maedwen. They were affected by them; anger, jealousy or cheating, and everyone was suspicious of everyone else. But of course they loved and cherished Maedir and Maedwen, the pure, good and beautiful.

Now, I wasn’t the only one who thought our neighbours were behaving like under a spell. Almost a year after the weddings Tuilindir and Rechiliel came back from Doriath and immediately started raising their voices. It didn’t take long and they worked out who was responsible. But Elves like them, courageous and opposing, did not fit into the plan of our two most beloved. It was after the rains that Rechiliel was found floating in the river and Tuilindir… one day he just disappeared. It seemed like none even noticed.

At some point they must have figured out they had no power over me. At first, I thought I was only imagining it. They would sometimes look at me strangely, like I shared a secret with them. Oh, how that was true. Their eyes followed me, green or blue. I know I saw red once. Often it felt like those strange eyes pierced right through me. I am sure they were playing some nasty game, enjoying my silent distress. I knew they were no Elves.

It was more than two years since the rumours and incidents started. One day we found another four goats killed, with cut throats. And, after all the debating and cursing, Inchon finally refused to send his share of taxes to lord Caladir and others followed. And when the lord´s messenger came, he was driven out by the whole village.

Trust me when I tell you that the next trading trip came as a blessing and me and three others left to do business in the nearby villages and towns. I was more eager than ever to leave. Later I sincerely wondered if I should even return, but the thought of my parents moved me to do so.

We could see the smoke from afar. And then the fires. Newfield was burning. We crossed the river and as I ran closer, I saw the village lay in absolute madness. The long expected Midsummer´s night festival had turned into a disaster. People were fighting in the streets and on the square, some lay unconscious on the ground and there was a pool of blood near the butcher´s house. The granary and six other houses were almost burned to ashes and over the course of the night the fires spread everywhere else. And worse, thought it is chilling and repulsive to even think about and to tell you now, many Elves were injured and nine lost their lives. The House of Elm Tree and the House of First flowers were in ruin. And nobody knew why they did all those horrible things. Nobody could tell me what happened, only that the two most beloved had suddenly changed.

And of Maedwen and Maedir there were no traces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The names is Sindarin and Quenya:  
> Golodhrim = Noldor  
> Ivanneth = Yavannië – sixth month, early autumn, harvesting season
> 
> I needed a fuckton of OC´s names for this. The names were chosen almost randomly, but someone might be interested in the meaning.  
> Maedwen means Shapely Maiden (maed+gwend)  
> Maedir means Shapely Man (maed+dîr)  
> Dílloth means Silent Flower (dîn+loth)  
> Rimben means Cold Mountain Pool Person (rim+pen)  
> Laimben means Thread Person (lain+pen)  
> Fanor means Bright Figure/Veil/White Cloud Male (fân+on)  
> Mornor means Black Male (morn+on)  
> Inchon means Inner Thought/Meaning/Heart Brother (ind+hawn)  
> Arochon means Noble Brother (arod+hawn)  
> Harunir means Wound Young Man (haru+dîr)  
> Húrel means Readiness for Action/Vigour/Fiery Spirit Female (hûr+el)  
> Himelnith means Cold Star Sister (himel+nîth)  
> Caenis means Earth Bride (cae+dîs) – wife of Maedir  
> (from the elf.namegeneratorfun.com)  
> Cugwion means Son of Dove (cugu+ion)  
> Arassion means Son of a Deer (aras+ion) – husband of Maedwen  
> Tuilindir means Swallow Man (tuilind+dîr)  
> Caladir means Light Man (calad+dîr)  
> Rechiliel means Daughter of Horse (rechil+iel)  
> Golvien means Daughter of Branch (golf+ien)  
> Merenel means Festive/Joyous Female (meren+-el)  
> (from the realelvish.net)


	4. Back home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Elf is sent out of Angamando by Moringotto to spy on her own people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“But ever the Noldor feared most the treachery of those of their own kin, who had been thralls in Angband; for Morgoth used some of these for his evil purposes, and feigning to give them liberty sent them abroad, but their wills were chained to his, and they strayed only to come back to him again."_

“This way,” she spoke again, nodding her head in the direction. Hyellissë followed her silently until they descended two stairways and got to a dark cold corridor, stopping before a heavy door. The guard knocked twice and was allowed to enter. She did as well, stepping into the room, which was rather small and noticeably chilly and smelled of mould and dirt.

But her attention was drawn to the man before her. The elf was very tall and had flaming hair and she might have called him handsome, beautiful even, if it wasn’t for the stern expression on his face. Lord Maitimo could not be mistaken for anyone else, the head of the House of Fëanáro, lord of the March. Her eyes instinctively went to his missing hand and she averted them at once, focusing on his face again, but that didn’t help. She felt anxious; she knew exactly why she has been brought here, but wondered why the Lord wanted to meet in this place. The room might serve better as a cellar, she thought. Was this his usual office? It looked very uninviting and, with a sharp bite it reminded her of the fortress in the north.

“You can go now,” he told the guard and she left, closing the door with a clang. Afterwards there was a long silence.

“Your names is Hyellissë, correct?” he asked, his bright eyes measuring her up and down.

“Yes, my Lord,” she answered timidly and he motioned to the chair and sat on the other side of the table.

“Surely you know or suspect why I have sent for you,” he spoke and she nodded, “good. That will save us some time. Now, Hyellissë, I would very much like to hear your story.”

“My story… my Lord?”

“Yes,” he replied, picking up a quill and a sheet of paper, “such news do travel fast, surely you understand why. It is not a secret that you have escaped from the northern prison, from Angamando, from Moringotto´s domain.” Hyellissë felt something strange happen to her as she heard that name. Just like before, she did not like it, it turned her insides into cold ice and made something in her mind twist and recoil away from it. She couldn’t say the word herself and feared even thinking about it.

“Yes, my Lord, I did,” she spoke, “I was lucky to have a chance so I could get free.” He nodded.

“Let me start by asking how you are doing.”

“Well, my Lord,” she replied, “more than well. I am of course glad to be back home and among my own people.”

“Hm, and how are people treating you? I have heard you are married and still have a mother,” Lord Maitimo said.

“I guess not everyone is quick to warm up to me now,” Hyellissë told him, “but there were no problems, not really. And my husband is wonderful, we are happy to be together once more, the same with my mother. I missed them a lot.” She did, desperately, when she had been confided to the underground hell. During all the mindless work and when she hadn’t been sick, she sometimes amused herself with dreams of the outside world, her family, Rautano, stars on a midnight sky, white clouds on a blue field, whispering grass… And she had thought of all those she loved when she had been on her way south. Once she had dreamed of being free again, of leaving the dark nightmare and walking in the vast world, but no more. Not when she had been commanded to do so. And by… by the Lord himself. Hyellissë trembled even thinking about him, not even remembering the encounter clearly. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to withstand the memory.

“I can imagine that,” Lord Maitimo said, “you are getting used to normal living?”

“Yes, my Lord, I plan to take up my craft again.”

“And what is that?” he asked, dipping the quill in the inkpot again.

“I am a shoemaker.”

“Hm. You said there were barely any problems,” he remarked, “which implies some. Tell me more.”

“Ehm... nothing serious, my Lord, just that people talk, gossip. Some bad looks, remarks… or threats…,” she said, not wanting to reveal much, but the Lord kept quiet and kept staring at her, so she had to say more, “our neighbour threatened us, another time a window had been broken by a rock…”

“The name of the elf who threatened you?”

“Nethonion.”

“Nothing more?”

“No, my Lord, I don’t think so,” she said slowly. If only a handful was happy to see her, fewer actually trusted her, but some could still be found. Rautano, of course, and Elnírwë, and her mother, and Téciel came over and also said that she blamed her for nothing and believed everything would be well again. But as an Elf of Angamando, stained by the malice of… of Melkor, the Lord, perhaps there was some flaw in her now. Hyellissë could have been damaged forever or turned against her own people, unwittingly or against her will, but was that all? Her spirit raged, cried and scream at such ideas, knowing then to be painfully true. She could feel the calling that came from the north, his imprint in her connecting her to his will and the fortress like an invisible chain. One day, not far from now, she would have to leave and go back. It made her feel sick. And in the meantime… Nethonion wasn’t the only one making problems, but she would keep the other incidents a secret, most of them were a one time thing anyway and she might have deserved them.

“Alright. I should get to the most important part, then. Hyellissë, how did you achieve to escape?” His question hung in the air and she could feel her palms sweat. He had never managed to escape on his own.

“I wasn’t alone, my Lord, there were four of us… who, managed to get out… Some of the tunnels down there lead to a lot of places and we found one that led to the outside world,” she spoke, trying her best to tell the story in a convincing way. She has memorised it back and forth, but right now, under his inspection, Hyellissë was faltering and she hoped he would just think her shy and traumatized. And she was, after all. “We crawled out of that tunnel and found ourselves on the eastern slopes on the mountains. And then crossed the plain and walked south.” She recalled how her feet had felt heavy and she had taken every step with a conflicted heart. But as she had seen the sky above her head again, the sun or the stars, everything, as days had passed and she put more distance between her and the prison, her spirit had lightened and she had been able to find some ease at last. It had been only temporary however, she would never be herself again and never truly free. Forced to spy on her own people and lie to everyone, she would always feel trapped.

“Do you think you were followed? Were they not chasing after you?” Lord Maitimo asked when he finished writing it down.

“No, my Lord. I don’t think we were followed,” Hyellissë replied, struggling not to show how nervous she was. The room was getting colder, she smelled mildew and dirt on the stones, her chair was very uncomfortable, and his eyes were sharp.

“And who were your companions during the escape? Are they inhabitants of my lands?” he asked.

“Well… there was Lalmion, then Eruséro and Quildë,” she spoke slowly, “and they are not. Quildë is from Targelion and Lalmion and Eruséro wanted to go west, they lived in Hisilómë before.” The Lord wrote notes on the paper and then was quiet for a moment, looking at her pensively and no doubt thinking fast, and she waited.

“And when you were still imprisoned,” he continued the interrogation, for it surely was one, “who did you talk to? Anyone especially different? Did anyone stand out among the other Elves?”

“Uhm… I don’t think so, my Lord. Everyone was rather the same,” she spoke, “and we didn’t talk much.”

“Do you think you have ever encountered someone who was not an Elf but presented themselves as such?” he asked slowly, “they would seem odd, had a strange presence, as if they could see into the depths of your spirit.”

“Eh… my Lord, I don’t… no, I don’t think I have,” Hyellissë struggled to say. Her mind instantly produced an image; a vast hall, very dark but cut through with a brilliant light. An imposing throne ahead and a figure sitting upon it. She wrung her hands under the table, her breath grew heavy and she had to avert her eyes from the Fëanárion.

“Think hard,” she heard his steel voice.

“Please, my Lord, I didn’t meet anyone,” she whispered, “maybe…” But she couldn’t say so, some part of her longed to confess of everything, tell Lord Maitimo because he might do something, but then he might do something to her… Which would be incomparable to what He, the Lord, would do to her. She shuddered. And even if she wanted to, she was certain the words would never actually come out, she simply couldn’t say it. “No… I don’t think so, we were only elves…” She dared to glance up and found him staring at her. The moment felt like eternity, before he finally let her go.

“You found the tunnel yourselves?” he asked then, his tone lifted.

“Yes, one of my… friends did,” she replied.

“Which one?”

“Lalmion,” she mumbled, looking at the wooden table in front of her.

“He´s the one from…?”

“Hisilómë, my Lord,” Hyellissë replied.

“Hyellissë, and don’t you think it terribly fortunate that you were successful? The whole escape was, as far as we know, unnoticed,” he said.

“Yes, my Lord,” she said carefully, her hands in her lap twitching a little.

“Only a fraction of those who get captured and enslaved are lucky to get free,” Lord Maitimo told her, narrowing his grey eyes, “Moringotto knows more than you might presume.” She internally recoiled from the word once again, it was disturbing to hear it and think it.

“Most likely, my Lord…,” she mumbled, “but what are you saying?”

“There are many ways that help him gather information,” he replied, “and there have been many rumours and, indeed confirmed instances, of Elves becoming corrupt.” He looked at her sharply and she felt a chill run over her skin and struggled to let nothing show on her face.

“My Lord… I don´t understand,” she said lamely, knowing exactly what he was insinuating and trying to do. Everyone knew the words from beyond the sea. It was treachery what we should rightly fear and expect, Hyellissë thought. She was on edge, sweating and fighting the urge to start biting on her lip. She avoided the Lord´s piercing eyes. He was trying to stare right inside her spirit.

“You might have met someone like that.”

“I... I don’t think so, my Lord.” He wrote something down and was silent again for a while. But then the door flew open suddenly and an elf run inside the room.

“Lord Maitimo!” he called, “come quickly, we have trouble in the courtyard!” The Lord got to his feet immediately and was glaring at the messenger.

“I gave orders not to be disturbed!” he barked and glanced back at her.

“But my Lord, there are news from the west-,“ the elf exclaimed.

“Quiet!” Lord Maitimo cut him off, taking him by the arm and leading him out.

“Your brothers sent a message, they had heavy losses, two outposts in the pass fell-,“ she heard from the hallway.

“Shut your mouth, not here,” the Lord snapped and then they must have walked away. Hyellissë waited, chewing on her bottom lip anxiously, and she thought of what they were talking about. Some trouble in the west that had to do with his brothers? That would be the Lords Tyelkormo and Curufinwë, who lived in Himlad. There must have been a grim attack if they lost two outposts, she mused. The pass was an important area… but it was a weak spot now… She heard footsteps in the hallway and quickly sat up straight. Lord Maitimo came into the room.

“I apologize fort he intrusion,” he said, “I gave orders not to be disturbed, but this was important. I have to cut our conversation short, Hyellissë, I am sure you understand. We have received rather disconcerting news.”

“Yes, of course I understand, my Lord,” he replied, relieved to get out of the cellar-like room and out of the gaze of the Fëanárion.

“Go home now,” he told her, concluding the meeting and then holding the door for her and escorting her outside. Hyellissë crossed the courtyard and then quickly headed home, but the thoughts of what she heard didn’t want to leave her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The names in Sindarin and Quenya:  
> Morgoth = Moringotto  
> Angband = Angamando  
> Hithlum = Hisilómë  
> Thargelion = Targelion  
> Fëanárion (q.) = son of Fëanáro
> 
> OCs:  
> Hyellissë means Glass Woman (hyellë+issë)  
> Rautano means Metal (rauta+no)  
> Nethonion means Son of Youthful/Young One (netha+on+ion)  
> Elnírwë means Star Tear Being (el+nírë+wë)  
> Téciel means Daughter of Writer (tec+ë+iel)  
> Lalmion means Son of Elm (lalmë+ion)  
> Eruséro means God Peace (mane+sere)  
> Quildë means Hush/Quiet (quildë)  
> (from the realelvish.net)


	5. Free and alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even when you escape from Angband you are not guaranteed real freedom and happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“Therefore if any of his captives escaped in truth, and returned to their own people, they had little welcome, and wandered alone outlawed and desperate."_

Looking back in the darkness, the three monstrous peaks partially hidden in shadows and fumes.

Sharp rocks and burnt land, barren and black.

The air growing fresher with every minute.

A raiment of stars, oh so many of them, gleaming and beautiful, finally above my head, soothing and allowing me to hope.

Soft grass under my feet, flowers, trees, hearing a birdsong again and the sound of flowing water.

Tears of happiness and pain, overjoyed to be free and unable to withstand the new light.

Moss and leaves that hide me during the day, so no one can see, so I can rest.

The oak tree beneath which we played as children in the lost days.

Faces mirroring disbelief, then fear, disgust and anger.

My older brother standing in the doorway, the firelight from the inside of the house falling around him.

A strong shove to my chest, making me to stumble and fall onto the hard-packed earth and dust.

Alone again, with shame and tears.

Crossing the land only at night.

Silence and cold mist, silver light coming down through the clouds.

A great tree on a hilltop, standing still, a perfect place to find the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you had a better time reading this than the elves had living in it.  
> Let me know if you find any mistakes.


End file.
